Of Colds and Kisses
by RobertDowneyJrLove
Summary: Ilsa finds herself taking care of a sick Chance and testing her self-control when Chance catches a cold. Chance/Ilsa.


She knew something was off the minute she stepped out of the elevator. The absence of the always bickering Winston, Ames and Guerrero was the first thing that put her on high alert along with the sound of someone's heavy, rattled breathing coming from the kitchen. She set her purse and briefcase down and made her way into the kitchen and nearly giggled at the sight before her. The big, strong ex-assassin that she adored was looking a little out of breath and if his flushed face was any indication, he was rather sick. She could have cared less about the fact that he was shirtless because she could practically feel the feverish heat radiating from him.

"Chance?" Ilsa called cautiously as she walked over to him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Ilsa?" His voice was raspy and hoarse and he sounded congested. "I don't feel so good."

Ilsa nodded and grabbed his arm with her other hand, "Let's get you upstairs and back in bed, you need all the rest you can get."

Chance felt entirely too bad to argue and willingly followed her up the stairs. Her hands were soft and cool against his feverish skin and the feel of her hand gently rubbing his shoulder was making him sleepier than he already was. When they reached his bed and she let him, he found himself missing her cool hands on his back. Once he was settled comfortably in the bed, she disappeared into the bathroom and re-appeared with a wet cloth and gently placed it on his forehead.

"Leave that on, it'll bring the fever down." Ilsa whispered, brushing her hand over his cheek. "I'm going to run to the store and get you some necessities. If, when I come back, you are out of this bed, you won't be kissing me for a week-even when you're not sick."

His eyes widened and panic nearly choked him but the mischief in her grin and the challenging glint in her eye had him settling back into bed as she kissed his cheek and left the room. The British vixen would either be the end of his sanity as he knew it or the end of him.

xxx

Twenty minutes when she returned from the store with three plastic bags of groceries and a drugstore bag of things she didn't think she would find in his bathroom, she was pleased to find that her threat had worked. Even if he had nearly choked when she delivered it, it had most certainly been worth it to see that he had in fact listened to her. She made quick work of putting the groceries away and preparing a bowl of chicken soup and a glass of orange juice. She carried it on a tray, along with the drugstore bag back up the stairs to his bedroom.

"I see you behaved," Ilsa grinned mischeviously as she carried the tray over to his bed. "I brought you some soup, orange juice and I bought you some cold medicine."

He wanted so bad to kiss her senseless as a way of thanking her for making sure he was well taken care of but he knew that she would not appreciate catching his nasty cold. He had never had someone who cared enough to make sure he got everything necessary to fight a cold. Underneath the smart businesswoman that he admired on a daily basis was a sweet, caring woman who genuinely cared about the people around her, even an ex-assassin who didn't think he was worthy.

"Your welcome." Ilsa smiled sweetly, almost as if she had read his mind. "You have very expressive blue eyes, Mr. Chance."

She removed the wet cloth from his forehead and brushed the warm skin with her hand as he sat up and let her settle the tray over his lap. The hot chicken soup felt good on his scratchy throat and the orange juice was just what he needed.

"How did you know what I needed?" Chance asked her hoarsely, looking up from the bowl of soup he had almost devoured to where she sat beside his legs on the bed.

"I was never any good at traveling. I'd always end up sick so Marshall made sure he had access to chicken soup and orange juice wherever we went." Ilsa explained with a soft laugh.

"Thank you." He whispered hoarsely, barely able to speak.

"Shh." Ilsa whispered, "You don't need to talk. It'll just make it worse."

He nodded and went back to his soup and orange juice. Once the bowl of soup was gone, she gave him some cold medicine to take with the rest of his orange juice. When he was finished, she set everything on the floor by his bed and helped him settle back down into the bed.

"C'mere." Chance patted the bed beside him, sticking his lower lip to add some childish appeal.

Ilsa nodded and slipped off her high heels before crawling into bed beside him. Once she was settled in bed and he had her in his arms, he let his heavy, tired eyes close and blackness encase him. Before she knew it, her brown eyes were sliding closed and she found herself falling asleep on his chest.

That's exactly how Winston found them later when he came to check on Chance. With a soft laugh and a shake of his head he left them to their mid-afternoon nap.

Chance was being taken care of just fine.

xxx

As it would happen, Chance was very, very clingy when he was sick and as a result, she found herself staying at Chance's upon his request. He had drowsily told her to grab a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and stay there with him, that he'd have Guerrero or Ames gather her some clean clothes in the morning. The next morning, she slipped out of bed and down the stairs to make him some coffee and toast because that's all his throat was going to allow for.

"Ilsa?" She heard Chance's sleepy mumble as she was heading back up the stairs with a plate and two cups of coffee.

"I'm right here, Chance." Ilsa smiled as she walked into the room and back into his line of sight. "I went to make you some coffee and toast so that you can take some more of your medicine."

He nodded tiredly and sat up so that he could eat his toast. He managed to eat one piece before giving up and drinking his coffee. Deeming that enough, Ilsa handed him two more white pills with the gentle order to take them.

"Those won't make you so sleepy." Ilsa told him softly, pressing her hand into his forehead. "You've still got a fever."

"I don't feel all that great," Chance grumbled hoarsely, looking up at her with a puppy-dog pout and sleepy eyes.

"I know you don't, honey. I'm trying to help you with that." Ilsa smiled sweetly, brushing his cheek with her hand. "I promise when you feel better, than I will make up for all of the kisses you're missing."

That seemed to appease him long enough for her to get him to let her take his temperature. She was delighted to find that his temperature was slowly dropping and it would only be a few more days before it would be completely gone. Once she had taken his temperature, he rolled over onto his stomach upon her request and nearly groaned in pure unadulterated pleasure when her cool hands worked the tense knots out of his sore, tired back.

"There," Ilsa smiled as she rubbed his shoulders one last time before stroking his hair and pulling the blankets up over him. "Sweet Dreams, Mr. Chance."

With a peacefully sleeping Chance tucked into bed and the cold medicine and other supplies put away, she walked downstairs with the determination to get some work done. She was halfway through her second pile of papers when a sleepy Chance appeared in the doorway of her office in only a pair of sweatpants.

"That bed is uncomfortable after two days." Chance offered hoarsely, shrugging his shoulders.

She watched with a rather amused grin as he stumbled to her couch and collapsed on it before laying down and falling asleep as if he had never woken up to begin with. He was childish and amusing when he was sick and even though she hated to see him so miserable, she couldn't help but wish he was like this more often.

It was very rare that Christopher Chance was calm and willing to let others do for him what he insisted on doing for himself so seeing him like this made her wonder if maybe he was just doing this to appease her.

Little did she know, Chance was enjoying it just as much as she was.

xxx

And so, that became their routine for the next three days. Ilsa usually ended up spending the night with Chance, getting up the next morning and making sure he ate and took his medicine before leaving him to sleep while she worked until he came into her office and crashed on the couch. By the fifth day, they were both getting fed up with not being able to kiss each other sensely and were getting ready to say screw it and give in to what they both wanted.

"Hey Ilsa," Chance greeted softly, leaning against the doorway of her office as he watched the petite British woman work quietly.

"Mr. Chance," Ilsa greeted, not taking her eyes off of the computer screen.

He couldn't help but notice the tension in her voice and had to wonder if he had inadvertantly done something while on cold medication. "Did I do something?"

"No," She shook her head as she looked up at him, "It's not you. I'm just tired."

"C'mere." He motioned her over.

She willingly got up from her desk and walked over to him, sinking into his warm embrace as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in the top of her head. It wasn't exactly like Chance to be affectionate and tender but she figured he was still a little off from being sick.

"This isn't because I'm still a little sick, Ilsa." He answered her unspoken question. "I just wanted to show you how much I appreciated you taking care of me, these past few days."

"If you really want to thank me, you'll kiss me." Ilsa retorted, looking up at him with a pleading look in her eye.

"You might get sick," He muttered even though he was already leaning down to kiss her.

"I'll risk it." She mumbled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down. "Who knows, it might even be worth it."

He laughed as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. Both of them released a sigh of pleasure at finally being able to kiss after five days of going without kissing each other. As he pulled her closer and his hand buried in her thick black curls, she couldn't help but moan.

Oh yea, that cold would be so worth it!

* * *

><p><strong>To my dear niagaraweasel, I sincerely hope you enjoy this sweet gift ;-) This hunk of shirtless deliciousness is all yours, my closet isn't quite as empty as would be necessary to hide Mark in there, so for now, I give him to you! Anyway, hope you like it and thank you for being the best-Mark Valley obsessed- friend a girl could ever ask for..without you, I have no excuse for the drool that coats my keyboard when I finish one of these :) <strong>

**And on that note, goodnight my loves! **

**Love ya, **

**RobertDowneyJrLove**


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